Zone Out
by sunstarunicorn
Summary: The day after Greg Parker's kidnapping and subsequent rescue, Lou finds the Sergeant in the locker room, trapped by his own senses in a near catatonic state. And Parker's 'team sense' is reversing itself, giving Team One a look at what their Boss has been living with…a look they don't like. A Magical Flashpoint Side Story


Author note: This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Anything For Family" and comes before "Saving Simmons".

Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

* * *

The day after Greg Parker's kidnapping and rescue dawned bright and clear. Team One arrived at the station, changing into their uniforms and bantering back and forth. Parker's appearance drew a few cheers in the men's locker room; their Sergeant gave them all a look that promised revenge for putting him on the spot and made his way to his locker in mock-offended dignity – which was ruined by the smile that kept tugging at his lips.

The guys trekked out of the locker room and up the ramp to the briefing room; all of them were hoping for a slow day after the wild ride of the day before. They all found their usual briefing room chairs and settled in, waiting for the Sarge to finish changing and join them.

When it started, it was small and barely noticeable; Ed frowned as Spike idly tapped out a radio tune on the table's surface. The team leader shifted so he could watch Spike out of the corner of his eye, frowning deeper as he noted the fact that Spike wasn't tapping all that hard…not as loudly as he was _hearing_ Spike tap anyway. Before long, the sound of Spike's tapping was getting louder and louder…and Ed was gritting his teeth to keep from reacting to the noise.

"Spike, could you stop that, please?" Jules requested out of the blue.

Spike blinked, looking down at his hand, and stopped at once. "Sorry, Jules." The bomb tech spoke only a bit louder than Jules had, but it prompted an unusual reaction from his teammates. Half of them flinched, just a bit, the other half looked confused as to why Spike's tapping had been an issue.

Ed, in his turn, got a sinking feeling in his gut. But he needed one more piece of information. Keeping his voice strictly at an inside volume, he met Spike's eyes and asked, "Spike, how's your vision?"

It took a second, but then Spike got the message and his eyes went wide. He looked down, but at the table, not his hand. Paling, Spike hissed, "What the heck?"

Ed shifted to stand, but right then, his theory finished validating itself as the entire team got hit with what, afterwards, Ed could only describe as a cry for help: terror and a helpless keen, right on the edge of hearing. As the invading emotions continued, Ed's hearing shot to truly painful levels; he couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. His vision, too, became so acute that he could _see_ the briefing room table's surface, as if it was under a microscope.

* * *

When it hit, it was like a massive, simultaneous punch to the gut; a surge of panic and terror, mixed with a wordless plea for help. Fortunately, no one was looking into the briefing room; they would have seen Team One all but collapse under the weight and strength of the foreign emotions.

Jules and Spike, who both tended to wear their hearts on their sleeves, were helpless against the rising tide of emotion, struggling – and failing – to keep their own emotions from 'mirroring' the panic and terror as the assault continued. Wordy, though a bit more reserved, was not much better off. Sam, used to controlling his emotions, stayed on his feet, but only with sheer stubborn will. He stumbled to Jules and Spike, unable to think any further than helping them. After a beat or two, Ed managed to stumble to Wordy, in much the same position as Sam; unable to think beyond just helping his best friend.

Lou, at first, was in nearly as dire straits as Spike, but his natural calm and steady nature helped him to bring things under control. Oh, he was still in trouble, but he could _think_ and _that_ made all the difference. The less-lethal specialist forced himself off his chair and ducked out of the briefing room, striving mightily to look like he was just making a brief trip to the locker room. Winnie looked up, but didn't notice anything wrong.

Inside the locker room, Lou found the source of the problem. Sarge was hunched in front of his locker door, both hands over his ears, eyes tightly shut, and flinching at every little sound…sound that Lou cringed at, too. The usual whisper of the ventilation now sounded like a desk fan, at its highest level. The constable opted against trying to use more sound to get Sarge's attention; instead he crouched next to his boss and grabbed his arms, trying to use the skin-to-skin contact as an anchor of sorts. After a few moments, the storm of panic and fear ebbed, but did not disappear as Sarge looked up at Lou.

"Lou?" The merest, barest whisper.

"Hey, Sarge," Lou greeted, his own voice just as soft. "You okay?"

Sarge grimaced and shook his head. "My hearing and vision are off-kilter again," he admitted. "I can't figure out what's wrong…and I can't feel my 'team sense'."

Lou shook his head. "Don't know how, Sarge, but _we're_ getting it."

"All of you?" Surprise rang in Sarge's voice, echoed by the sting of the same emotion in Lou's mind.

"I think we're just picking up you," Lou explained. "Come on, let's get to the briefing room…see if we can figure this out."

Sarge nodded, looking – and feeling – both exhausted and resigned. Lou felt a pang as he finally realized just how _much_ his boss needed the 'team sense' to operate normally. The point was driven home when Sarge had to rely on Lou to guide him; his vision and hearing were so skewed that he couldn't walk without losing his balance every other step.

Lou snuck his boss's phone out of his pocket without a qualm; they needed help and they needed it _now_. He considered how to do what he was planning, then mentally sighed and bit the bullet. The less-lethal specialist got Sarge into the briefing room and to a chair, then walked back out and called the school, pretending to be his boss and giving the kids permission to leave school. The perky secretary sounded like she was screaming in Lou's ear; he fought to keep from flinching and he was _very_ relieved when he could hang up and send the two kids text messages. He sent the same message to both phones: SOS, SRU HQ.

* * *

Lance and Alanna used the back entrance into the SRU, rightly suspecting that Winnie didn't know they were coming. When they reached the briefing room, Lou was waiting just inside the door for them. He was the only member of the team still on his feet; the rest were all in their chairs – and all but huddled up against whatever was happening. And Lou spoke as softly as he could, a sure indication that his hearing was _much_ more sensitive than usual. "Started maybe an hour ago. We're all picking up the Sarge and _he's_ got no control over his hearing, vision, _or_ 'team sense'. I found him in the locker room, practically non-responsive until I grabbed his arms." Though Lou looked reasonable steady, his eyes shone with an inner distress and the kids knew this had to be resolved, _fast_.

The teens huddled together a moment, using a mix of hand signals and soft, single word sentences to 'discuss' their plan. Then they returned to Lou. Alanna whispered to keep from bothering already strained senses. "I'm going to try and shield everyone from the 'team sense' and Lance is going to help Uncle Greg."

"Copy that," Lou acknowledged, his relief plain.

Lance was careful to move without making any more noise than necessary, all but tiptoeing to his uncle's side as Alanna's violet magic curled through the air in an attempt to form a shield against their uncle's magical anchors. The teenager had to grab his uncle's arm to get his attention and when Uncle Greg shifted to look, the boy realized that sound, _any_ sound, would just make things worse. Gold flared around his hands, creating a temporary connection. _Can you hear me?_

Uncle Greg jerked, startled by the mind voice. _Yes._ His expression was uncertain, stressed, and near the end of his tether.

 _It's not permanent,_ Lance reassured his uncle, _I have to be touching you and using my magic to make this work._ He paused, but, really, the situation could only go on so long before the team got hurt. _Back when you were having trouble, I had a thought, but then you figured out the 'team sense' and everything got better._

 _What's your idea?_ Uncle Greg's mental voice was filled with a desperate hope for a solution; Lance cringed internally.

 _I think maybe, somehow, you got some of the family Animagus form's abilities._ Lance explained. _We guy Calvins get a gryphon, been that way for generations…if you were magical, that would be_ your _Animagus form, too. Um, we're not typical Animagi, but some of the tricks still work for us…like when we shift back and forth. Instead of just trying to 'pull' your vision and hearing back, try to remember what it was like before all of this happened. Imagine your vision going back to 'normal.'_

Uncle Greg's eyes narrowed and Lance restrained a gasp when his uncle's eyes shifted to _gryphon_ eyes. After a moment, they shifted back to human eyes and Uncle Greg's expression turned utterly relieved. _I think I got the vision,_ he said, _but it's been so long since I had normal hearing…_

Lance nodded once to show he understood. He considered, turning over several ideas and thoughts. _I could try to do it for you, but I've never done this before._

Frustration flashed and Lance knew the answer by that alone. _Do it._

The teen closed his eyes and let his magic _flow_. Gold shimmered around both the boy and his uncle, skating under their skin and creating, just for a few seconds, enough of a link for Lance to do what his uncle couldn't. Lance let his own hearing form the basis for what his uncle 'remembered' normal hearing should be, pushing that concept at the magic keeping his uncle's hearing up much too high.

Lance pulled his magic back, knowing by the second surge of sheer relief in his uncle's face that it had worked. _Better?_

"Lots," Uncle Greg murmured, keeping his voice down. "What about my 'team sense'? It's got to be something _I'm_ doing, right?"

Lance nodded agreement, his eyes solemn. His own voice stayed down as he whispered, "See if you can find it now; your hearing and vision were so high, they might have been keeping you from accessing it."

* * *

Even his 'team sense' hadn't been able to give him _normal_ back, but his nephew had managed it by looking at the problem from the perspective of family magic; something that had never dawned on Greg, even after Wordy had pointed out that he had 'gryphon' vision and hearing. The oversight was a bit embarrassing, truth be told, but his team came before his embarrassment over being shown up by his nephew.

The SRU Sergeant mentally 'reached' out again for his 'team sense', frowning when he still couldn't immediately find it. Instead of giving up, Greg tried to look at the problem from a different angle, tried to figure out _what_ had changed between yesterday and tod…oh… _Oh!_ Parker called himself ten kinds of fool as he mentally scrambled to _stop_ the 'reversing' he'd been trying so _very_ hard to use after being kidnapped. His 'team sense' was almost sullen as he finally, _finally_ managed to get a grip on it and stop the 'reverse' it was using. Greg, just as unimpressed with his 'team sense' as he was with himself, merely lifted a mental brow at the 'pouting' sensation he was getting from it.

Around the room, the rest of Team One let out sighs of relief as the emotional assault stopped. Greg couldn't quite meet his teammates' eyes as they straightened in their chairs, looking rather unsteady and dazed. Lou stumbled over and sat down in his own chair, looking somewhat alert, but even _he_ need a few minutes to recover.

"Sarge?" Wordy finally asked, rubbing his forehead. When Greg gave the brunet a tiny head tilt in inquiry, Wordy finished with, "How in the _world_ are you still sane?"

Murmurs of agreement came from the rest of the team; Greg blinked in astonishment. Even when he'd _first_ gotten his 'team sense', it hadn't felt like he was losing his mind. Not to say that he hadn't come close, closer than he wanted to admit, a time or two, but it sounded like his team had been hit a lot harder than he _ever_ had. After a minute, the Sergeant shrugged. "I don't know, Wordy," he admitted, "But I _think_ I'm still sane."

The chuckles he got were weak, but there.

"I, ah, I'm sorry about this, guys," Greg said softly, looking down. "If I'd actually been _thinking_ …"

He stopped when Ed whacked him, lightly, on the arm. "Stop it, Boss; we're all figuring this out as we go. Not that I want a repeat of this, but one mistake is _not_ the end of the world. At least you're not just saying, 'I'm fine'."

Greg's lips quirked in a grin. "No, Eddie…that's usually _you_ who says that."

Ed stopped, thinking over what he'd just said, then ducked his head. "I, uh, I guess you rubbed off a little there, Boss."

Parker moved on, letting his team leader have a moment to himself. "Lou." When the less-lethal specialist looked up, Greg continued, "That was _excellent_ thinking on your part to get the kids here. We needed their help today and you were able to get that help for us." His eyes swung to the kids and he added, "Not that this means you two are off the hook for yesterday."

"Understood," Lance acknowledged; Alanna nodded her own understanding.

With a little sigh as he realized they still had an entire shift ahead of them, Greg considered how to help his team as much as he could. "Okay, take a break, see if you can get your balance back after _that_ , then let's hit the workout room and hope for no hot calls today…I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a day with just workouts and paperwork."

Team One's agreement flowed in and, very shortly, Greg and the kids were alone in the briefing room. Greg turned to them. "You two did a good job, too," he told them quietly. "You don't have to go back to school if you don't want to." He hesitated, then asked, " Do _you_ two know why I can handle this?"

"For sure? No," Lance remarked, "But if I had to guess, I'd say family magic."

"You do have it," Alanna put in, "Not as much as we do, obviously, but you're still a Calvin. Plus whatever magic of _ours_ that's rubbed off."

Greg considered that. "Something to think about later," he decided. "Okay, go on, head home and stay out of trouble."

The expressions on their faces were the very picture of innocence and he was immediately suspicious. "Don't worry, Uncle Greg," Alanna promised, "We'll stay out of trouble."

* * *

Two hours later, Greg sighed, with one thought running through his mind, _'Don't worry, Uncle Greg. We'll stay out of trouble.' HA!_ The Sergeant huffed as he picked a balloon off his uniform, wondering what on _Earth_ the kids had found to make the balloons stick to his team like this. Poor Spike could hardly move without picking up another ten balloons or so and Jules' only advantage was that she was _used_ to sneaking through tighter spaces than her male colleagues.

"Sarge?" Wordy inquired, as he stopped trying to wade through the sea of balloons and started just tossing them out of his way. "Hope you don't mind getting caught in a few practical jokes because those kids of yours are _going down_." He batted another stream of falling balloons away from himself and Spike, the tech taking advantage of Wordy's height to avoid picking up even _more_ balloons; even _with_ Wordy's help, the balloons seemed to be migrating towards the bomb tech as if he was a balloon magnet of sorts.

Ed muttered his agreement with Wordy's line of thinking as he, Lou, and Sam bunched up in an 'arrow' formation to carve their way through the balloons that were _still coming from the ceiling!_ The Sergeant stole a glance upwards, growling to himself as he took in the shape of the balloons still suspended above himself and his team. Just then, the strands holding the last flood of balloons in the shape of an airplane gave and Team One 'enjoyed' another downpour of balloons, filling the briefing room to the top of Jules' shoulders.

Greg, for his part, ignored the giggles and snickers coming from the kids' co-conspirator in the doorway…even as he vowed to lay his hands on every last picture that camera snapped. "Wordy," he replied, brushing an errant balloon or two off his shoulders as he started wading to the door, "After this, I'll help." He waited for his team to look over in surprise and smirked as evilly as he could. "Revenge will be ours…and it will be _pink_."

 _~ Fin_

* * *

Author note: Happy Thanksgiving 2017 all! Hope ya'll enjoyed this little snapshot into Greg's (and Team One's) troubles with the 'team sense'. The final update for "Saving Simmons" will be out tomorrow, so please stay tuned.  



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